


Boy meets boy

by tothemovies (jayjem_jam)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Divergent, Hinata didn't go to Karasuno, M/M, before the current manga timeskip, the miya twins run a cafe in hyogo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24624235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjem_jam/pseuds/tothemovies
Summary: There is a boy. Boy goes to Toyooka. Boy meets brother of a boy who has a twin. Boy meets boy who likes boy. The rest is history
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Boy meets boy

**Author's Note:**

> i'll have us know that this idea occurred to me in a single line - Oh I'm not in school - and it's exploded into a full fledged work since - it's got terrible accent and the timelines don't add up but please think about mutually attracted atsuhina from a week of infrequent meetings. and then they're on the same team. it's a good visual
> 
> for atsuhina week 2020 - day 3: mutual pining!

Shouyou is staying in Toyooka for a while, attempting to see a pocket of Hyogo in all its historical and natural glories before hiking off to Russia to train for a summer. He's barely twenty-one and he has places to knock off his lists and teams to train with, which is why him up and moving isn't entirely out of character, just very sudden.

He got off the train yesterday and strolled along the autumn streets, unblinking for a long time and trying to absorb in the ambience. He almost missed dinner, and Yuki-san almost threw him back on the street for that.

He is staying with Izumi's aunt, who runs an accounting firm here. His friend would be meandering to Toyooka in a week's time, spend two days together and then see Shouyou off to Stalingrad. Meanwhile, he has a whole week to explore and enjoy this rustic city before he says goodbye to Japan for two months. Beyond that, he’ll go where the wind takes him. No notable events are happening as of the immediate Now, so it is quiet and still, so Shouyou got to skip having to experience the storm of people crowding the small town and instead, he can pretend like it's just him, the trees, the lakes and the nice dango ladies who talked him into purchasing more sweets than he could finish.

The errand boy in him wakes too early, eager to fulfil his job, when he realised that he was ordered out of Sendai to relax, so he gracefully bows out of bickering with Yuki-san. It is an awfully fresh day, and Shouyou decides that yes, he will get food this morning before sitting down and planning his journey properly. 

Natsu gifted him with a travel journal which he happily filled in with fun sketches of landmarks, scribbles of fun facts or just long rambling paragraphs, half volleyball tactics and half bored musings of a restless athlete who is in transit. It's good fun for the both of them to go over once he's back, so he's scribbling down Takeno Beach, Genbudo cave, Nakashima Shrine, _visit Izushi!_ The _onsen_ is an absolute must, and he will do a time lapse of him running up the steps of the Inari shrine in Izushi. He might even go running through the Kannabe highland, breathing the pollen through his lungs. The front cover is worn, often thumbed when he's absently losing his thoughts while opening the journal, the leather lumpy in odd places, cover no longer flatly pressed. Everything is scribbled, quickly jotted down in dot points, as he wanders along the neat road, tracking the progress of the sun.

His eyes are fixed at best on the top of houses and he is a kick away from knocking something - a board - down from its intended post. 

His excellent reflexes are engraved in his bones, not too excellent because he had already kicked it, but years of diving drills got him surging to the ground before he could blink, latching hands around the frame and hauling boy and board back upright. It's an odd place to start volleyball practice, but instincts are instilled into a person after years of gruelling practice and here they are.

A snort rattles him out of muted shock and into deep mortification when a tall shadow falls over him, mellow gold eyes tracking his movements. He must look like a furtive wild animal right now - large eyes, crouched stature, bolting stance - And his hands gripping the fallen board is not helping the situation.

"Good catch," a Kansai voice drawls, just this side of teasing. "Wanna put that back up and come inside?" 

He rights the board, eyes shifty and stance fidgety. "Why are you inviting me inside? Sorry. About the board. I should have been more careful."

The guy waves his apology aside, a soft roll of his eyes. 

"M'stupid brother put that out there to trip poor smchucks who think the footpath is for pedestrians where in fact issa lawless land ‘ere, people just do wha'ever the hell they want. Come inside. I feel responsible for yer wellbeing at this present moment. Se’ttle down a bit and then ya can move on."

As a fellow country boy himself, Shouyou isn't about to turn down small town hospitality when he's lived with it his whole life. He's here to relax, and he's in no rush to meet everything on that vague list he pulled out from thin air on the train ride here, so really nothing should be stopping him from being polite.

"Sorry for the intrusion," he bows anyways, and bows again when he's led into the small coffee shop, roasted beans wafting in the confined area. "It smells great in here -" He looks, floundering when he realises they never introduced each other.

The employee - with the black apron, sleepy dark eyes, cap, logo of a fox emblazoned across the top of his head - blinks. Slow. Lazy. Like he has all the time in the world. 

"Miya."

"Thanks for inviting me inside, Miya-san. I'm Hinata! Hinata Shouyou!"

He gets a lazy hand wave in return. 

"'snot a problem. Yer look like ya need some sugah, and we ‘ave some fresh out of the oven, so come try some." 

He's curious - because who isn't, at the promise of sugary desserts? He's not on any strict diet regimes. What he is on is a strict Now Go Relax order, because the friends and family association is a hardass and they as a collective will wring Shouyou's neck clean off his head - down to commit a crime legitimacy - if he doesn't obey. They will know, because Izumi is coming by to check on him. Shouyou is very easy to read and he can't lie.

"Thank you," he dips his head again, and totters over to the display, blinking at the row of desserts. "Whoa. They're so cute."

"Take one of each and tell me how ya feel next time yer pop by," Miya-san tells him, already piling a number of desserts into a box. 

"How much," he fumbles with his wallet, forking out bills before Miya-san can tell him it's on the house or something stupid like that. He would know. He had to force money into the till of the local grocery store because they refused to participate in the local economic model. 

"Two thousand," Miya tells him, easy, calm, like he hasn't a worry in that tall frame of his. To be that tall... what a dream. 

"Thanks, Miya-san," he hands over the folded bills, accepting the box of confectionery in return. "I'll come back, alright?"

"I might be ‘ere and there on Wednesdays but other days I'm always here," Miya tells him, taking off his cap, bleached brown hair fading into black, eyes closed in a slow blink. "Take care out there."

Shouyouu waves back, enthusiastic and familiar. "You too!"

  
  


He returns on Wednesday, after confirming coffee orders with Yuki-san and The Partner, eyes and feet especially cautious at where they're stepping. He doesn't want a repeat of the Sunday incident. That wasn't very cool of him, Athlete Man.

Miya's Cafe phases into sight and he excitedly shoulders his way in, a side eye to the board, standing at least two tables away from him. This distance is good.

"Oh. _Hello_ there," Miya drawls from the counter, tying a headband over his hair. "How can I help ya today?"

Shouyou opens his mouth, then closes it when he feels the eyes boring into him. Really intense. They could drill a hole through him.

"Miya-san?" He tilts his head, lost. "I... uh. I was here. The other day. Hinata Shouyou?"

Miya-san blinks, the same slow drag of eyes, when a smile drips onto his mouth. He looks different - like a fox that caught a fresh prey. Shouyou's nerves are keenly honed onto this sudden shift. He looks different - almost like a different person.

"Sorry, Shouyou-kun," he drawls, the same voice, but pitched... differently. "Lost me ‘ead a little there. Come on in. How can I help ya today?"

He brings forth The List, too spooked to speak, but Miya-san doesn't take any offense, leans a long and sinuous body over the counter to take the piece of paper off his hand, gold eyes peering at the squiggles. 

"Ah, Yuki-san," he touches his lips with the tip of his finger, humming softly with the slow hum of the machinery behind him. "And the Partner. Gettin’ right on it. Yer getting anythin', Shouyou?"

While the Miya-san of Sunday was polite - casually, with an ease - the Miya-san of Wednesday is _also_ friendly, but just differently. Almost aggressively. They feel like complete different people, wearing the same face.

"Just a macchiato for me, thanks, Miya-san," he dips his head in a polite bow. 

The gold eyes watch him, even as the person turns around to fiddle with the coffee machine.

  
  


Shouyouu looks around, taking his time. He's off to the Inari Shrine, the thousand red gates, ready to snap some commemorative photos for his friends and family. The cafe is grounding, before he has to hike all the way up a mountain to reach the summit. Exhausting. Severely.

"So, yer in school, Shouyou?" Miya asks again, the crass sounds of his accent waking Shouyou up to the here and now.

"Oh, not anymore, Miya-san," he says, rubbing the back of his head. 

"Yer dropped out?" The man asks, a smile in his question.

Oh wait. It did sound like that.

"Not! No! I finished school!" He protests, hot under his collar. 

Miya-san gives him A Look. He doesn't seem very convinced.

"Sure, sure, buddy, and I betcha finished college too, huh, country bumpkin?"

"I did though. Fresh graduate."

Miya-san hums around the polished machinery. "Smart boy."

Shouyou doesn't really need to blush, nor did he want to, but here he is, blushing. 

"Ya did anything fun in school?" 

He thinks hard about it. Is completely honest about his answer.

"I played volleyball. Maybe some cycling? It was on and off."

Miya's eyes curve into a band of gold. It's like staring directly into the face of a total eclipse. You're advised not to do it, but you did it anyways and reaped the consequences. 

"Hmm. Yer got anywhere with either one, Shou-chan?"

Shouyouu almost stutters and rear back, because that is implying something unbidden and unanswerable, but the customers pour in to save him from further embarrassing himself. Hearing a click of a sharp tongue, he hops over to the other side of the counter, blinking big eyes as the things Yuki-san ordered are piled neatly into a box, as Not-Miya winks at him before going back to serving the old ladies waiting at the till.

  
  


He goes back on Thursday, very early on, and breathes a sigh half with relief and half with a visible oh as Miya-san pulls the doors open to let him in. No sign of Not-Miya. Maybe he can look again? Look harder?

"Didn't get to see ya yesterday, Hinata," Miya immediately says. "Hope yer didn't run inteh weirdos."

"Say, Miya-san, d'you have like a -" 

He's interrupted by a voice, jarringly similar to the Miya-san before him but also fundamentally different, calling for a _Samu, get'in 'ere!_

Miya-san rolls his eyes once before looking right at Shouyou in the eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah I do."

Do? Do what?

Miya-san leaves, and immediately, Not-Miya-san tiptoes out, identical except not really, and he grins, impish and crooked, striking a thrill of something hot and precise through Shouyouu's spine and lingering on his left shoulderblade. Like swallowing a hot mouthful of ramen despite all the steam.

"Heya, Shouyou-kun," the drawl again, dripping golden and liquid warmth down his esophagus. 

"Um, uh, Miya-san?" He flounders, because this is still… a Miya. He presumes. The family resemblance is _uncanny._

"That's me, pal."

"There's nuttin' wrong, yer crack job," Miya-san complains from somewhere beyond. "Quit makin' a ruckus for nothin'."

His accent kinda gets heavier around Not-Miya. They has to be brothers or cousins or something -

"Hinata," Miya-san pokes his head out. "This is my brother. Sumu, do not do anythin'. Stay."

Miya Sumu rolls his eyes. "What am I, yer dog?"

"'member the spray bottle? Shit hurts, Sumu."

"Okay, okay, 'm stayin' still, stayin' right here," Sumu puts up his hands, grin cheeky, slicing up one side of his face, half a mouth of sharp teeth flashing Shouyou in the face. "Wanna grab a seat somewhere, Shouyou? We'll come ter ya."

Shouyouu grabs a seat. Takes out his phone to panic briefly to Izumi. Izumi demanded _pics or it didnt happen._ Shouyouu thinks about asking both Miya brothers for a selfie before striking down that particular idea. He’d feel much safer chased down by a rabid deer.

Miya-san reenters, kicking at his brother, before striding over to where he is, slipping into a seat opposite him. Taking off his cap, he closes his eyes, column of throat bared as he tips his head to the ceiling. His brother glides across the length of the cafe into the seat on Shouyouu’s left, impish grin perpetual on the gleam of his mouth, lips, teeth. He feels a little faint at the proximity.

“This guy botherin’ ya, Hinata?” Miya-san tips back his head, dark eyes boring into him. He’s charmed at the barely veiled hostility, the thin excuse to beat up one’s sibling. Natsu used it sometimes. Her elbows are very sharp.

“I’m just a lil’ confused, Miya-san.” His mouth works around a sheepish smile, then a reassuring one. He does not want both Miyas to worry. “And Miya-san.”

Miya Sumu takes off his cap, bleached blonde hair clumping together, dry and split-ended, as he messes up his hair even more from the back of his head. 

"Think we broke ‘im a little, Samu,” he jerks a distinctive arrogant chin. “Ne’er seen twinsies before, Shouyou-kun?”

It’s deeply unnerving, how he cuts corners and pathways in the way he speaks and grinds words in that whole mouth dripping with sharp teeth and an errant tongue, but he pronounces Shouyou’s name fully. _Shou-you._ All the sounds are enunciated, placed emphasis upon. Like a liquid joy to savour, milked to extremities.

“Can’t say I _expected_ it,” he hunches into himself. “Usually I just expect one person.”

“Oh man, ‘m ‘boutta blow yer fuckin’ mind, Shouyou-kun,” Miya Sumu drawls, dragging himself up, languid, a singular motion. “There’s a whole buncha us Miyas bouncin’ ‘round the countryside.”

“Do not,” Miya-san shoves him aside, his cap also off. “Pay any attention to this moron.”

“Ah’right, ah’right, ci’y boy,” Miya Sumu bats his brother away, fingers long and crooked. “Bein’ goofy ‘snot a crime.”

“Yer a crime,” Miya-san gripes back. “Hinata, feel free to run now.”

Shouyou watches this like a match rally, rocketing back and forth between brothers, riveted to see who’ll start devolving into physical violence and who will win. 

“You do talk like a city boy,” he points out, and Miya-san bares his teeth in what is hopefully a playful smile at him. “Did you study in Tokyo?”

Miya Samu opens his mouth to answer and his brother pushes in instead.

“Got ‘imself a Tokyo beau, so now they sound lek each other. Shit’s gross.” Miya Sumu bares his teeth, like a predator, in Shouyou’s line of sight.

“Nothing’s wrong with dating a city dweller,” he smiles. “They’re nice people.”

Miya-san shoves at his brother as if going _look, he’s on my side._ Miya Sumu rolls his eyes, stretches his long arms high above his head, joints popping back in place.

“Rin’s nice,” Miya-san says, smiles, going soft and mushy as he pulls out his phone. “Playin’ for V-1 League.”

Shouyou shoves himself off the table, scrabbling to see. Wow! A pro!

The person in the shaky selfie, Miya-san shoved against his left, has hair parted roughly in the middle, dark eyes, sleepy lids, irritated twist of his mouth in the photo. Shouyou oohs and ahhs, because wow! A pro! He only ever played against college teams, not actual V-1 League athletes. 

“You look like each other,” is his helpful observation. “You’re cute to’ether.”

Miya Sumu lifts both brows in his direction. “Oh? So ‘e does have an accent?”

“Just a tiny one,” he shrugs. “What about you, Miya-san? Any local beaus for you?”

It takes maybe a single second for both brothers to start slapping each other, the table, the seats. It’s a riot of a picture to behold, and he waits, because Natsu and him are the same.

“Jus’, man, ‘ntroduce yerself to ‘im,” Miya-san wheezes, surfacing to take a breath, and rising from his seat. “I’m gon’ go inside. Do _not_ do weird shit.”

He doesn’t get to protest or slide in an input of his opinions. Miya-san disappears, and the other Miya-san rises too, turning sideways, waiting for him to get up and follow. Shouyou doesn’t know the ways here. He stands up and follows.

“Shouyou-kun,” Miya-san says, at last, when they’re merrily treading down the path leading to the Izushi shrine, strong and light footsteps accompanying each other. “Yer not as nice to me as ya does my brat bro’er.”

He blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s ne’er too late to start bein’ nice and fluffy, Shouyou. C’mon, ya can be cute and smiley teh me now, I won’t tell ‘Samu.”

Shouyou breaks out into a peal of giggles and Miya-san puffs out his chest, proud of the reaction he pulled from him, and they slow down their pace for him to catch his breath.

“Okay,” he huffs, drawing in short breaths. “Okay, I will, Miya-san.”

“Fer godssakes, jus’ call me ‘Tsumu. Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.” Miya Atsumu, who _definitely_ doesn’t know about the finesse of keeping his full titles between two speaking parties, who Shouyou shouldn’t be as charmed with, had announced, brazenly and proudly. 

“Okay, okay,” Shouyou continues to laugh, a harsh and open sound. “Atsumu-san.”

“How long are yer in Tooyoka for, Shouyou?” They’re in the 500s in a line of inari gates and Shouyou sways on his feet, in and out of Atsumu’s orbit. He likes the look of anticipation Atsumu-san has in his eyes. Keeping him on his toes. Keeping him in check.

“Until Saturday,” he tells him. “Then I’m off to Stalingrad.”

Atsumu does a double take. “Russia? What’s yer bus’nis frolickin’ off teh the Great Snowland fer?”

Shouyou beams. Doesn’t really give an answer. They reach the top. He makes a wish.

“Yer comin’ back ‘ere at all, Shouyou-kun, or yer done with us all?” In there, a deprecation lies. Shouyou blatantly does not see it.

“Who knows, Atsumu-san,” he bumps into the solid shoulder of the starting setter for the V-League Division 1 Black Jackals Volleyball Team, lingering. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Atsumu insists on walking him back, but Shouyou flips that on him and insists on walking _him_ back to Miya’s Cafe, and leaves him there, Miya-san waving idly from the front counter.

(He got a photo regardless, both brothers wrestling him in the middle. Izumi tells him he’s a heartbreaker, and Shouyou says, with certainty - “Nah, I’ll see ‘em again.”)

  
  


Before he goes, he slips into the cafe for one last time, beaming as Miya Samu makes blinking eye contact with him from the cake display.

“Is Atsumu-san not here?” He asks, straight to the matter.

“Out runnin’. If yer want teh see ‘im that badly, stay for a bit longer.”

“Nah, I actually have a car ride to catch.”

“Ah,” the dark eyes open, dark grey. “Right. Comin’ teh say goodbye teh to me and not ‘Tsumu? Cold of ya, Hinata.”

“I’m here to let you in on a tiny secret. Here,” he shuffles over, pulling the acceptance email. “I’ve been on and off Japanese soils, but uh, here.”

Miya-san leans over. Reads the email. Looks up at him. Looks back down.

“Holy shit,” he breathes around a lightning fast smile. “Holy _fuckin’_ shit.”

“Shh, don’t tell him, okay? I’ll be back for spring and then he’ll know.” He pockets his phone, and backs out of the cafe. Miya-san waves at him lazily, grin still on his face. “Thanks for ev’thing, Miya-san!”

“It’s Osamu!”

“Osamu-san! Bye bye!”

  
  


(Shouyou returns in the spring, sitting inside his home - for luck, the superstition sticks - before turning up to practice. Sakusa nods in greeting and Bokuto-san beams at him, crushing his hand in a friendly handshake. The captain welcomes him in warmly, and the setter -

Atsumu-san swears, loud and gibberish, before knocking into Shouyou in an attempt of a hug, bowling him over and yipping _ya fucken punk!_

Later, Atsumu-san would gripe at him, poking him insistently in the shoulder.

“Yer said ya did volleyball, on and off.”

“Oh that was cycling. And I did volleyball on and off _Japan._ I went overseas a lot.”

Atsumu looks into somewhere like there’s a hidden camera, and back at him.

“Yer a real riot, arentcha, Shouyou? Real funny of ya to _make a fool out of an honest man like that!_ No, Meian-san, let me at ‘im, let me at ‘im!”)

**Author's Note:**

> i was in the middle of posting this last night where my laptop crashed so clearly technology is unable to withstand the power of atsuhina
> 
> hinata is going to russia, stalingrad here because the russian men volleyball team ranks 4th on the FIVB ranking ladder in the world and i've got a sort of headcannon that hinata already went to rio before heading off to stalingrad. idk i just thought going to russia from japan was closer than fucking off to brazil? also russian hinata. think about russian hinata. i am thinking about him, mr worldwide. if i love him anymore i'd be miya atsumu
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hozukitofu) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jenny_benny)! i have a writing [twitter](https://twitter.com/jayjem_jam) if anyone is interested in more bs or we can just vibe in the void together


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